Demented Whispers, Week of Nightmares
by Cameron Beaumont
Summary: Dr. Douglas Netchurch faces down one of his most disturbed patiences, Case File 27 Donald Mckalf, Malkavian with multiple personality syndrome.


The buildings were plastered with the many colors and obscure images of graffiti. The streets were dirty with the scent of garbage and decay. The sky above the city was as dark as the emptiest void, the wind howled like a banshee in the most unspeakable pain. Without warning the sky flashed with an intense red light and the buildings erupted into flame. It seemed the fires of hell raced down from the heavens leaving all lifeless in its unrelenting path. The giant mound of ash that was the city buried a million innocents amidst the debris. A bombastic laughter echoed throughout the barren wasteland as the earth began to shake and crumble into the ground.

Donnie awoke in an intense panic, stained with buckets of sweat. The reoccurring nightmare had invaded his slumber once again. He sat up in bed to attempt to regain some control. He quietly wept to himself as he surveyed the wrecked, one room apartment. The dark brown bookshelf was tipped over by the desk on the opposite wall. There were papers all of the floor, most of it was notes for his newest book of poetry. He rose from the bed to turn on the lights but the power seemed to be out. It was still night and it was storming violently. The only illumination in the room came from the lightning that burst like fireworks through the sky. Donnie lit a candle and walked over to his dresser where there was a mirror. The man that gazed back at him was around 6 feet with long, greasy brown hair. He had deep sunken hazel eyes and he had a small mustache and goatee. Donnie noticed he was still wearing all his clothes from the day before. The figure in the mirror shot him an unsettling smile that was not returned. It had been a long time since Donnie trusted the man in the mirror.

As Donnie looked around the room he saw writing all over the walls. He scanned the wall next to his bed to read what was written. "All great truths begin as blasphemies" was one of the messages, another message read "You can't wake a person who is pretending to be asleep." Even more shocking was that the messages were in Donnie's handwriting, though he had no memory of writing them. As Donnie attempted to make sense of them he was startled by the loud blare of his cell phone on the dresser. He slowly approached it and answered.

"Hello?" Donnie stated cautiously.

"Donnie, where the hell are you?" said a frantic voice

"Dr. Netchurch is that you?" questioned Donnie.

The normally calm and sophisticated Dr. Douglas Netchurch was out of sorts with his intense and overbearing tone. "Yes Donnie its me, tell me where you are?"

"I'm at my apartment, what's going on?"

"Donnie…you don't have an apartment."

"Then, where am I?" Donnie was now trembling with fear. He studied a room that looked very familiar.

"That's a good question, Donnie you need to come back to my clinic right away."

Donnie struggled to get the words out of his mouth. "Dr. Netchurch I'm sorry, I think it's happening again."

"Donnie, is anyone else there with you?"

"Ah…No" Donnie was now disoriented with panic. He wandered over to the window and looked out into the street. "If I can tell you where I am, will you come to me?"

"Sure Donnie, I just want you to be alright." Said a sympathetic Dr. Netchurch.

Donnie noticed that the apartment complex was on 10th and Pacific and he went over to the door to discover that he was in room 202. He reported his whereabouts to Dr. Netchurch. As Donnie paced around the room he caught a glimpse of the man in the mirror. The face had a lustful smirk with the eyes of a corpse staring back at Donnie.

"Dr Netchurch, please hurry, I don't want him to come back."

"Donnie, he won't, but listen to me, don't even look at him. Just breathe and try to relax. I'll be there shortly."

Donnie fell to the ground and cradled himself, the laughter from his dream was now as loud as the thunder. He peered up and saw one more message written across the entire ceiling. "Hey you its me, now I'm out of you and free of you to do as I please to you…my perfect little fool." The laughter continued and blistered Donnie's ears like an ambulance siren. Donnie screamed in horror as he noticed the image in the mirror was the one laughing. He fell into unrelenting fits of screaming and then bursts of laughter. Donnie grabbed a book and threw it at the mirror, shattering it. Unable to control his emotional outburst he fell over and blacked out.

Donnie awoke to pounding coming from the door and the familiar voice of Dr. Netchurch. He stumbled to regain his balance and answered the door. Dr. Netchurch presented himself as Donnie leaned against the wall to keep his balance. Dr. Netchurch is a well-groomed thin-faced tall man with short blond hair. He is roughly 40 with an out of style suit to match his coke bottle glasses. Netchurch helped Donnie over to the bed.

"Donnie, sit down, we both know this is not the first time this has happened. This behavior is indicative of your multiple personality disorder. We have fought this monster before and I won't let him take you again."

Donnie's demeanor suddenly shifted to a colder, demented state. "Poor Douglas Netchurch, if you are here for Donnie, you won't find him."

"If it is not Donnie that I am speaking to, then identify yourself." Demanded Netchurch

"Oh Douglas we have played this little tap dance before, you know exactly who I am." Retorted the voice that was not Donnie's

"Cyaphas? I did know, I also know that Donnie was here and I want you to show him to me." Instructed Netchurch

"That pathetic fool is dead, I took him away and chained him down where it used to be me, but now its him." Cyaphas smiled a wide grin that tore across Donnie's face.

"If you knew what Donnie wanted you wouldn't chain him down, he wants to do what's best for both of you." Netchurch continued to stand his ground

"I know exactly what Donnie wants, he wants peace, either to answer an unasked question or just an end, end of pain, existence, anything."

"Quite poetic tonight aren't we Cyaphas." Bemused Netchurch

"You see Douglas I don't want peace and I do want pain, to end pain is to end me." Cyaphas glared straight into Dr. Netchurch's soul with his cold, lifeless eyes. The storm outside began to rumble at an alarming rate. Netchurch trembled but slowly reached into his pocket containing a tranquilizer.

"I want to help Donnie so I guess I will have to end you." Threatened Dr Netchurch as he sprung at Cyaphas sticking the needle into his flesh. Cyaphas stumbled into the dresser as he became drowsy and disoriented. Cyaphas' vision began to blur and he struck the ground with a violent force as he passed out. Flames rose from the depths of oblivion and chains wrapped around Cyaphas' neck, dragging him into the void as Donnie slowly regained consciousness.

The darkness was replaced by a glaring sunlight as Donnie awoke in a surprisingly comfortable hospital bed. Dr. Netchurch stood above him.

"Welcome back Donnie." Whispered Netchurch

Donnie smiled weakly in recognition. Netchurch nodded and then motioned to one the orderly as they exited the room.

"Make sure he stays on the appropriate medication, even under sedation", Instructed Netchurch.

With effort Donnie breathed a sigh of relief. This had been the third time Cyaphas had almost robbed Donnie of his last trace of sanity. Turning his head to the window Donnie gazed out into the afternoon sunlight wondering how much time he had before it set. Then like a canker in the back of his mind just beyond the plane of understanding Donnie could hear a voice.

"If silence was golden then you and I would have a fortune Donnie." Sneered Cyaphas


End file.
